As you know, the trial of Saddam Hussein recently began, only to be adjourned until late November. Following the court proceeding, Saddam was returned to his cell, where we learned that he received an interesting telephone call. Our PRS operatives managed to obtain a transcript of the telephone conversation.

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Saddam: “Hello. This is Saddam Hussein, the President of Iraq speaking. Who is this?”

OJ: “Hey, Saddam. This is the Juice calling.”

Saddam: “Did you say the ‘Jews’ are calling? The President of Iraq does not speak with Jews.”

OJ: “No, not the ‘Jews’ – It’s the ‘Juice’ – You know, OJ? OJ Simpson?”

Saddam: “Hmmm. The name is familiar to me. … Yes, I remember you. You’re that black man who butchered his wife and that other guy – a Jew, as I recall. Damn, she was a real looker, but believe me. I understand how some women can really smash your testicles.”

OJ: “I think you mean, ‘break your balls’, and, besides, I didn’t do it.”

Saddam: “Ha! You didn’t do it? Do you take me for a buyer of a used camel? I watched it all on CNN. You killed those two as sure as Allah rules the universe.”

OJ: “Look, let’s just say that they’re both dead, and I have a nice house, plenty of money, all the women I want, and I play golf every day. Pretty sweet, wouldn’t you say?”

Saddam: “You’ve got a point there, but why are you calling me?”

OJ: “Man, I saw that your trial is getting started, and I figure I can give you some tips on how to beat this rap.”

Saddam: “I don’t need any help. This so-called court has no jurisdiction over me. I am the President of Iraq, and these American puppets can’t try me. This is nothing but an American, what do you call it? Orangutan Court?”

OJ: “I think you mean ‘Kangaroo Court,’ but you gotta stop that ‘I’m the President of Iraq’ shit, ‘cause it ain’t gonna work, at least not there.”

Saddam: “How dare you talk to me in such a manner. I will have your head for that!”

OJ: “Let’s cut the shit here, Saddam. You’re locked up, and several million people want your sorry ass executed. I was locked up too, you know, and damned near as many people wanted me juiced (no pun intended). And, like I said, I’m free and you’re not. I think you oughta listen to me.”

Saddam: “You do make a good point. I’m listening.”

OJ: “Good. By the way, are you eating something? I hear you chewing, and it’s a bit distracting.”

Saddam: “Prunes! I’m eating prunes. I asked for dates, but these pig Americans gave me prunes. I’m shitting like a sick camel. This is pure torture, I tell you. How dare these pigs treat the President of Iraq this way!”

OJ: “I thought we agreed that you were going can that “President of Iraq” bullshit.”

Saddam: “OK. I’m listening.”

OJ: “OK. Let’s get down to it. I think you might want to take notes. Do you have a pencil?”

Saddam: “Yes, I do, as a matter of fact. These imperialistic dogs allow me to have one pencil! Imagine treating the President…”

OJ: “Hold it!”

Saddam: “Sorry. I’m listening, and I am ready to take notes.”

OJ: “Pay attention”

Number one: You should hire Johnny Cochran. … No, wait. He’s dead. Never mind. I’ll call Geraldo Rivera and get the name of that black guy who screamed every night that I was innocent. Don’t worry. The guy’s a genius.”

Saddam: “But, I have lawyers already.”

OJ: “Hey, do you want to win this thing, or do you want to argue with me?”

Saddam: “OK, so you’ll talk to the black lawwyer and get him to call me. What next?”

OJ: “Number two: Have your lawyer move this trial to California.”

Saddam: “Ah, California. I’ve heard great things about California. Many people like me there.”

OJ: “Once your case has been moved to California, have your lawyer try to get your case assigned to that Chinaman. … What was his name? … Oh, I remember. It was Judge Ito. Wait … ‘Ito’ – Maybe he isn’t a Chinaman after all. He may be a Jap. Whatever.”

Saddam: “A Chinaman? A Jap? I’m not liking the sound of this.”

OJ: “Dammit, Saddam!”

Saddam: “Sorry. Continue, please.”

OJ: “Number three: Try to get that black guy Chris Darden assigned to prosecute your case. Man, if he shows up, you’re golden. Hell, the day he did that glove thing with me, I knew I’d be playing golf in no time. Oh, and if that sexy Marcia Clark is still in the prosecutor’s office, try to get her assigned to your case. She was one fine looking piece of tail. I’ve called her a couple times from the golf course to try to get something going. You know what I’m saying? But, the bitch won’t return my calls.”

OJ: “Number four: You need an alibi. You’ve got to be ready to say you were somewhere else when those couple hundred thousand people were killed. I suggest that you say that you were chipping golf balls at the time. It worked for me.”

Saddam: “What does ‘chipping golf balls’ mean?”

OJ: “Details, Saddam. Just go with me on this for now.”

“Number five: You gotta blame someone else for killing all those people. By the way, is it true that you gassed an entire town?”

Saddam: “Well, I’ve been accused of that.”

OJ: “Excellent! Now you’re catching on.”

So, let me continue. You gotta blame someone else for killing all those people.”

Saddam: “But, Mr. OJ, It might be difficult to blame someone else. There are lots of pictures of me running the country and giving orders.”

OJ: “Pictures don’t mean shit, Saddam. You need to hire experts, man. They’ll say anything you want them to say, including saying that the pictures of you are all doctored.. Hell, I left my DNA all over the goddamned place and I got experts to say it didn’t mean shit.”

Saddam: “Well, who could I blame? I did run the country”

OJ: “That’s an easy one. You can blame your sons.”

Saddam: “Blame my sons? My dear sons? What kind of devil do you think I am?”

OJ: “Saddam, for Chrisssake. Stop with the Father-of-the-Year bullshit. Your sons are already freakin’ dead., so why not blame them? It makes perfect sense to me.”

Saddam: “This is sounding pretty good to me, Mr. OJ.”

OJ: ” Number six: “Set up a toll-free number so people call in and give you tips about who really killed those thousands of people.”

Saddam: “I don’t understand why I would do that. I killed …”

OJ: “Stop! Don’t say another word. The toll-free number worked for me. Remember, there are lots of real dumbshits in the United States. They’ll buy it.”

Saddam: “I’m liking what I am hearing, Mr. OJ. Is there anything else?”

OJ: “Yeah. Clothes. When you get to California, I’ll give you the number of my tailor. He’ll make you a first-class set of threads. You have to come to court stylin’ in a suit and tie. And, for God’s sake, don’t even think about wearing one of those damned towels on your head.”

Saddam: “Towel? How dare you cal the kaffiyeh a towel? I’ll have your head….”

Saddam: “OK. OK. Take it easy. I don’t care what you call the damned thing; just don’t wear it in the courtroom.”

Saddam: “Agreed. Is that all? The guards are watching me.”

OJ: “That ought to do it for now. Any questions?”

Saddam: “I do have one question. Why are you doing this for me? Is it because you hate the imperialist, infidel dogs who wanted you dead?”

OJ: “No, actually I was thinking that, once you’re free, we can make a shitload of money together. Hell, we could do a book and appear on Oprah. We could sell a line of clothing or men’s cologne or some shit. Know what I mean?”

Saddam: “I’m down with that, my black brother.”

OJ: “OK, man. Peace out.”